Look at that beetle crawlin' there on the asphalt, man, he's getting somewhere faster than me The crickets though seem willing to hang around and give me a little ditch-side company Frontage road bushes make a cave for me to spend the night With a wake-up call before sunrise to the glow of the Chevron light Big Lenny-lanking Robin Cobb greets me highway side, says he's hitchin' from 'Zona to Maine We Laurel-and-Hardyed it together across the New Mexican plain Couple of girls of the gilded flower-power, they got us to a drunken revelry at a rest stop, but Cobb and me, for that day we'd had enough thrills, we went to sleep there in the sand as the lights of Albuquerque shone across the hills No, that night the gun shooting, laughter heaping, four-wheeling, couldn't be keeping me from sleeping Next morning, sun was just peeping, waking up on the sand, ol' Cobb got me to laugh almost to weeping, the way he shimmied out from his blanket where a scorpion was creeping Come on, man, time to keep on, keep on, keep on, keep on, keepin' on... keepin' on... Despair and hope shake they my hand like some clutching drunk that I can't stand With each car that passes me by, I look to see if they'll at least look me in the eyes Some say “life is a journey”, me, I had to get out and see Why I was feeling so afraid in the land of the brave, so enslaved in the home of the free What's got... What's got into me? Man said his name was Cat Head and he drank his beer from a bottle in a brown bag Took me past a pit-bull farm while about his guns-and-hustling days he did kinda, sorta brag It was a cardboard mattress that kept me dry one night as I lay stranded between a forest and a concrete wall I remember the rain off those Tennessee pine boughs softly drip, drip drip, drop, drop, drop and fall Dennis took me across West Virginia, he'd served between the ice and the Antarctic snow dunes He conjured an image of the sun's setting for the last time in months – he made it sound lonelier than the moon Was a Pennsylvanian priest not quite primped for the pulpit who got me a bit further down the line He asked me big questions about my life without too much proselytizin' on the sly It might as well have been Oz, arriving in Minneapolis with guitar and dust-of-the-road on my hiking pack Taking the big red bus across town to my parents' home, I was the only white face in the back “Play some Motown, man,” challenged one tough-looking brother for all to hear I gave him some Smokey Robinson “it's easy to trace the tracks of my tears” but he wouldn't sing with me, became him, not me who was feeling fear Despair and hope shake my hand like some clinging drunk that I can't stand With each day that passes me by, I keep a look-out from the corner of my eyes Some say “life is a journey”, me, I had to get out and see Why I was feeling so afraid in the land of the brave, so estranged in the home of the free What's got into me? What's got me? It was just North of Denver, finally got a ride – the man had a face half-paralyzed with a Winston poking out of it Near Durango, where I figured they'd be hip to my tango, no one helped me along on my trip Dusk – Crawling across the Continental Divide, in the back of a pick-up with a Spanish-speaking man's groceries I did ride Trust – He offered me a bed in a trailer he had behind his home, but I ended up side of the road - shivering all night – I just couldn't stop roamin' Next day, on the rez, I was warned of shapeshifters who, take my soul they just might Maybe those couple of Navajo saved me, who for the price of a six-pack put me up for the night Stuck for hours outside Gallup made it clear with my eyes to the drifter comin' towards my spot I didn't want to pal up Surprise surprise, fifteen yards down the line a truck stops to give him a ride I dashed after them and was allowed to jump in – the drifter made it clear with his eyes – no offense was taken But as the threat of a snowstorm lit up the horizon and lightning showed signs of a demon he'd known He quickly asked the driver to pull over and that weather-worn angel got out and let the wind take him wherever it was blowin' he was goin' goin' goin' goin' gone Despair and hope shake they my hand like some clutching drunk that I can't stand With each car that passes me by, I look to see if they'll at least look me in the eyes Some say “life is a journey”, me, I had to get out and see Why I was feeling so afraid in the land of the brave, so enslaved in the home of the free What's got... What's got into me? To the roadside is where some butterfly collectors find their yield Where the fancy flight of colors meets the unforgiving face of the windshield Along the roadside the collectors don't need their nets As they pick out the bodies from among the smoked-down cigarettes

Still at the crossroads Holding together the pieces of his soul That ol' gypsy just can't seem get on a roll He's known so many people, so many different towns He's bummed a few nickels, he's bought a few rounds He's been up and down and up and down and all around But he's never found... Melissa Melissa He's traveled with the freight on a train Letting the winds blow him nowhere and nowhere and back again He's shuffled quickly past his pain He's stood at the ocean with his arms reaching wide Let himself be washed away with the tide But that man-child deep inside That boy, he still cries: Melissa Melissa And there he is sitting on some hill at each day's done He's alone there, setting with the sun Then ol' night comes and treats him like a long lost friend Picks him up and gets him on his feet again So the next day when he wakes up he can just roll on yes, he rolls on yes, he rolls on... gypsy Forever at the crossroads With no certain way to go How long he'll have to wait there, he's not to know Seems he'll be there 'til his dying day Just bring him a rocking chair, let him wile his life away Still he'll watch for her to come walking by some day He'll keep hoping when she does she'll stay Yes, he'll keep waiting on Melissa Melissa He's still waiting on Melissa